


When Breath Won't Come

by beckettemory



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckettemory/pseuds/beckettemory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he can remember, Mori has been unable to talk in front of other people. It was only four years ago that someone other than Honey noticed. </p>
<p>--three vignettes exploring Mori + severe anxiety--</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Breath Won't Come

_—…glad I sit at the back of the room...—_

Takashi’s hands shook as he reached down to the floor to retrieve his pencil. Once righted, he attempted to work the algebra problem in front of him, but after clearly getting the wrong answer on the easiest part of the multi-step problem twice, he put down the pencil and pressed his shaky hands to his eyes.

_—…that’s not like me… what’s wrong with you, Takashi?...—_

He took a deep breath, then another.

_—…wish Mitsukuni was here...—_

Takashi wiped a hand along the back of his neck and loosened his tie some more.

_—…feels like I’m choking...—_

He glanced up and saw Mr. Tsukuda, up at the front of the classroom, watching him. Takashi quickly looked back down at his paper and reached for his pencil, searching intently for where he went wrong, hoping desperately that his teacher would stop watching him and not call attention to him. The attention of his classmates was always bad when he was freaking out, but without Mitsukuni at the next desk it would likely prove disastrous.

_—…maybe I can sneak off to call him during lunch...—_

He realized he had at some point stopped really looking at his paper and had been staring blankly at it for some time. His breath was coming faster, his heart speeding up. He placed the tip of his pencil on the page, blinking rapidly to clear his head, and wrote a single stroke before putting the pencil down again and twisting his hands together in his lap.

_—…hope he’s feeling better...—_

He tried to think back to what had triggered his anxiety, but couldn’t think of anything. He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and rolled his shoulders. He risked a glance up at Mr. Tsukuda, and would have been relieved to see that the teacher was sitting at his desk grading papers had he been able to feel relief at all.

_—…what do I do?...can’t leave the room...—_

Takashi pressed his hands to his eyes again. He remembered what the doctor had told him to do, and he began breathing slowly, deliberately, keeping his hands over his eyes.

_—…one…two…three…four…out…two…three…four...—_

Mitsukuni’s smiling face appeared in his mind’s eye, and Takashi repeated the breath cycle. And again. By the end of the fourth cycle, it was Mitsukuni’s voice counting in his head, numbers interspersed with “breathe, Takashi!” and “I believe in you!”

_—…breathe… for him...—_

 

* * *

 

 

Most people would call him a loner, some “shy”, a few going even so far as “silent” or “mute”.

Mitsukuni wasn’t one of those people.

To him, Takashi was wonderful at speaking. He had a beautiful voice, and a beautiful mind, and a mouth full of poetry and insight. Dinner alone with Takashi was the highlight of his day, and yes, he is counting cake time thank you very much.

When they were alone together there was no dead air, no silence, nothing but words filling the dining room or the study or the bedroom or the patio.

And Mitsukuni knew. He knew Takashi had anxiety. He had been there when they began elementary school and Takashi suddenly couldn’t talk unless they were alone. He had been in the waiting room when the psychiatrist diagnosed him with anxiety four years ago. He had learned early that, when he and Takashi were at school or in crowds or anywhere except home, Mitsukuni needed to talk for both of them.

And he was happy to oblige. It wasn’t Takashi’s fault, after all. It was no one’s fault. It was just something that was.

So he spoke for both of them, and all was well. If he could keep his sparring partner, cousin, best friend, companion, paramour from having a panic attack, then by all means he did whatever was necessary.

He spoke for both of them, and then after school they spent the car ride home decompressing from the long day and planning their evening. After they’d finished their homework and were digging into their dinner, they would talk about their day and trade jokes about the Hosts and their clients.

Takashi had a beautiful laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

Haruhi’s knees gave out and she slid to the floor, her hands pressed over her pounding heart. She simultaneously felt trapped and didn’t know where she was, but the contradiction did nothing to soothe her.

Tamaki was the first to notice her fall, and shrieked her name as he tripped over his own feet to reach her.

“Haruhi! Are you okay? Are you hurt? What can I do?” he cried in one breath as he knelt beside her.

The twins were next. They had been on the other side of the music room, thankfully devoid of guests at the time, and had sprinted over at Tamaki’s first sharp cry. Hikaru, too, knelt next to Haruhi and Kaoru stood on her other side.

“What’s wrong with her?” Kaoru asked, his words overlapping with Hikaru’s, “what happened, Boss?” and then, together, when they noticed her wide-eyed blank stare, “what do we do?”

Kyouya, having noticed the ruckus only after Tamaki had made his way to their youngest member, soon joined them in the circle around her. He observed quietly (though inwardly terrified like the others) for a moment as Tamaki and the twins continued their panicked babbling to Haruhi and each other, then reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

He had the phone flipped open and a finger poised to call an ambulance when Honey elbowed his way between him and Hikaru and knelt as well next to Tamaki.

Honey smacked lightly at Tamaki’s hand, reaching out to Haruhi, and Tamaki yelped.

“Stop it!” Honey said, his high voice adding to the rush of voices swirling around Haruhi, and she somehow knew that if they kept it up she would die. The blood was pounding in her ears and she no longer knew who these people were. Her entire body trembled and she could not move. She was not real and she was going to die and her heart pounded and she had never felt this terrified.

“That’s enough,” a deep voice boomed, and the Hosts quieted abruptly. Mori stood a metre away from the group, his eyes dark as he glared at Tamaki.

“Give her room,” he commanded, and the five men clustered around Haruhi got to their feet and moved back several paces. “You don’t need to call for an ambulance,” he informed Kyouya, who swiftly put his cell phone away.

Mori took Tamaki’s place, kneeling in front of her at a respectful distance.

“Haruhi, this is Mori from the Host Club,” he murmured, and the other Hosts (save Honey) thought to themselves that this was the gentlest they had ever seen him.

“Can you hear me?” he asked gently, and after a couple tense seconds she was able to nod. “Good. May I touch you? If you’d let me, I’d like to move you into the other room where it is quieter.” Another moment, another nod. “Alright. I’m going to pick you up.”

And he did so, nodding meaningfully to Honey as he carried the trembling Haruhi into the pantry.

When they reached the other room, Honey turned to Kyouya. “You should probably call Haru-chan’s dad. Tell him that she had a panic attack but she’s being taken care of.” He turned to Tamaki and the twins. “She’s in good hands.”

Tamaki’s jaw was slack. “But...how does Mori-senpai know how to do that?” he asked incredulously.

Honey shrugged. “He understands. He has really bad anxiety too. He’s just doing for Haruhi what I do for him.” And with that, Honey set off in search of a glass of water.

When Honey entered the pantry with the glass of water, Haruhi’s stare was no longer glassy, and she clutched tightly at Mori’s fingers. He placed the water next to Mori and left quietly, placing a hand briefly on his cousin’s shoulder as he turned away.

“Let’s work on your breathing. We’ll do it together. We’re going to breathe in for four counts, and then out for four counts, okay? You just focus all of your attention on me and your breathing, alright?” Haruhi nodded. “Okay. Breathe in...two...three...four. Good. Out...two...three...four.”

They repeated the process for a few minutes, and slowly Haruhi’s heart stopped pounding. She was able to move her eyes rather than just stare blankly, and her hand loosened some from around Mori’s.

“Good. Keep breathing. Do you feel any better?” Mori asked, watching her closely. She was doing so well for her first panic attack.

Haruhi nodded. “I’m...” she started, and her hand tightened again. “I don’t...know where I am,” she whispered, and she wobbled. Mori placed what he hoped was a grounding hand on her shoulder, and she closed her eyes.

“You’re at Ouran Academy, in Music Room 3, where we are both members of the Host Club. Right now we are in the pantry because it is quieter. You are Fujioka Haruhi, and I am Morinozuka Takashi,” he explained. He waited, and she nodded faintly.

“I have a glass of water here for you. You should drink something,” Mori nudged, and slowly Haruhi opened her eyes.

Half an hour later Ranka appeared, in a whirlwind of worry and melodrama, until Honey flagged him down and explained what happened and how he should take care of her when they left.

The other hosts watched from a distance, still processing that Honey had so much depth to him and that Mori was more than just Strong And Silent.

After several minutes more the pantry door opened and Haruhi walked out, shakily, with Mori a step behind. Ranka, as calmly as he could manage, met her halfway and gave her a long, gentle hug. When they parted, Haruhi turned to Mori.

“Mori-senpai—“

“No need.”

“Thank you,” she said anyway, and reached out to touch his hand.

Ranka and Haruhi left and Tamaki approached Mori.

“That was....impressive, Mori-senpai,” Tamaki said, and he bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

Mori nodded and cast a glance at Kyouya, then the twins, then his Mitsukuni, then towards the door through which Haruhi and her father left.

_—...anything for more of this...—_


End file.
